I wish I were afraid of suicide.

I suppose there was an underlying reason for me having rented that book. Suicide is something I think about quite a lot. I think about how I'd do it, what would happen after, where would my ashes be thrown (because I want cremated. I don't want to rot in a box.), I think about where my stuff would go and how the ones who tried to help me would feel. It both excites me and breaks my heart.

I haven't stopped crying for a few days now. I have those small moments of happiness but other wise I'm in tears. I'm not hungry and cigarettes are seeming nicer and nicer. I have a purpose in this life, I know that, but it's painful having to wait.

My father went and got me pills and told me I can take them if I want; but I won't. I won't see Peter again either, he hasn't done anything for me. Joe and me have our last session tomorrow, maybe that's why my heart is aching so much?

This post is pointless.